


To you, five years from now

by a_sassin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Au-Timeskip, Bitterness, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, Resolved Sexual Tension, Season 3 Spoilers, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, everyone has long hair okay, levi also deserved better, mikasa deserves better, mono no aware, post-snk, they're all grown up now :')
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-05-30 15:56:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_sassin/pseuds/a_sassin
Summary: Five years after the end, Levi stumbles upon an old comrade. On some level, he understands why she disappeared so suddenly - but, Eren only has two years left, and he's got enough gratitude for that shitty brat to bring him a farewell present.*Season 3 SPOILERS*-“I… Once I realised what the curse of Ymir meant,” she begins hoarsely, “I couldn’t get past the realisation that I’d have to watch them die.”He says nothing, staring at the window as the sky outside turns a dusty pink.“All those years, all that’s kept me going is the need to see them safe,” he ignores the break in her voice.“I get it,” he says, “even though I thought you were a selfish brat when we first realised you were gone.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I really should be working on BCG, but I just caught up to SNK and I couldn't help it. Intended to be oneshot. Could possibly expand a little more if you guys are interested. 
> 
> Please enjoy, let me know what you think! :)

When he sees her for the first time in five years, it takes a double take and a scar on her cheekbone to recognise her. 

He’s in a small seaside town, where the air is fresh and briny, women dive nude in the early morning for oysters, men take their fishing boats and haul in squid and tuna and mackerel. The houses are simple wooden structures, and there’s only one town tavern. 

It’s there – as he passes through for lunch – when he spots woman alone at the bar. 

She’s beautiful. Long dark hair, silken and inky, spills down her back, stopping at sharp elbows. Pale skin, despite the sunny climate, large grey eyes. And – a scar, a thin pink line on finely structured cheekbones. 

“Cadet,” he says, as he takes the seat one down from her. 

“Captain,” she says back, staring at the wall of liquor behind the bar. 

He observes her through hooded eyes. She must be in her early twenties now. 

Unfortunately, her poker face is just as good as his. 

“What’s a brat like you doing in a place like this?” he asks, flagging down the elderly bar attendant. 

“I could ask the same of you,” she murmurs, knocking back a tumbler of amber liquid. He guesses it’s whiskey, but he can’t tell for sure. 

“Two of what she’s having,” he instructs the old man, jerking his head to his subordinate. 

In short order there’s two glasses before him. He sends one sliding along the counter to stop before her. 

“Care to answer properly?” 

She sighs, barely audible. 

“I’m just passing through.”

Levi watches a lock of dark hair slip over her shoulder and swing in the space between her chest and the counter. 

“Funnily enough, so am I.” He takes a sip. It’s whiskey. Not very good whiskey, either. 

They sit at the bar in silence, ordering rounds of drinks until the sun has set far beyond the horizon. 

“You know he’s looking for you, right?” he asks as they stand from their stools and make to leave. They’re not going very far. There’s only one inn, and it’s around the corner. 

She shrugs, but he can see the slight downturn of her mouth, the anger in the set of her jaw. 

.

The next morning, Levi braves his hatred of sand and takes a walk on the beach. The water is cold, but refreshing on his feet. He rolls up his pants to the knees, and stands on the shore, staring out at the glimmering shine of the sun reflected off the waves. 

On his way back to the village, he spots a group of women. They’re nude, as is the custom for the divers, donning nothing more than thick rope belts with knives and netted bags to store oysters and clams. The pearls are the most prized reward for diving, and the most accomplished women have delicate jewellery made with their abundant finds. 

It’s among them that he spots a head of hair, a league darker than the rest. It’s braided tightly, plaited down her back to rest along her spine. Her body, unlike the other women, is toned and obviously strong. 

Levi averts his eyes, and meets her gaze. 

She’s staring at him. Deeply, unabashedly. He feels his cheeks flush, despite the fact that she’s the nude one between them. 

“Captain,” she says shortly when he’s within hearing distance. 

“Ackerman,” he nods in return, resolutely keeping his eyes on her face. 

They part ways. 

Later, at the tavern, she sits opposite him in the booth he’s acquired. 

“How… are they?” her voice is strained. He spots her fist, clenched much too tightly on the tabletop. 

“As well as they can be, I suppose,” he signals a waiter, “Armin is healthy as can be. He’s working with Historia to set up schools and universities within those old relics they call walls.” 

She scoffs a little, but it’s got no bite. 

“I expect nothing less from him,” she smiles at the tabletop, “I had thought he’d be off exploring. He… had so many dreams, before.” 

They sit in silence for a moment. 

“He’s taken it upon himself to help humanity flourish,” Levi says, “as if we all didn’t do enough already.” 

He gets a laugh, a bitter one at that. 

“And… Eren?” He’s surprised to note that her voice doesn’t waver. 

“He’s… okay.” 

The waiter brings their drinks and they sip for a moment. 

“I can’t count how many expeditions he’s sent out and been on, looking for you.” 

She turns her gaze to the window, where the light of the setting sun tints the glass orange. 

“I don’t think he believes you left on your own terms. He’s got theories that you were blackmailed, that you were brainwashed, that someone stole you away. Armin tried – well, he failed to explain that-”

He cuts himself off and sips at his drink. 

“I… Once I realised what the curse of Ymir meant,” she begins hoarsely, “I couldn’t get past the realisation that I’d have to watch them die.” 

He says nothing, staring at the window as the sky outside turns a dusty pink. 

“All those years, all that’s kept me going is the need to see them safe,” he ignores the break in her voice. 

“I spent so long fighting to survive, to keep them alive, that it became surreal.” 

He sees her take a sip of the shitty whiskey from the corner of his eye. 

“I get it,” he says, “even though I thought you were a selfish brat when we first realised you were gone.” 

He turns sharp eyes back to her refined features. 

“All I could think was – how could she do this? Eight years, he’s only got eight years. I thought that, if any of my squad, anyone I’d cared for, had eight years to live, I’d spend every moment with them even if they annoyed the hell out of me.” 

She flinches, barely. 

“To think some self-pitying brat up and left when the nation was in shambles, when those brats have a time limit on their lives, was appalling. Disgusting.” 

She takes a long drink. 

He takes a sip, eyes trained on her. 

“I was angry,” she says, “that nothing I did was enough to protect them.” 

The waiter brings another round of drinks. 

“I was angry that they got to die while I had to stand by and watch,” she’s crying now, frowning – and she shouldn’t look so attractive when there’s grief and anger warring on her face, but she does. 

“Those two always manage to leave me behind. Even when I was the best, when I cut down more titans, when I did something reckless to protect them, they surged ahead and I was left grasping at their backs.” 

Levi thinks of a woman, kicked against a tree. A man, flattened. Gunshots to the head. Of all the fuckers that went ahead and got themselves killed on his watch. 

“I get it,” he clears his throat, “you spent so long living your life for those shitfaced rats that you forgot how to do it on your own.” 

She doesn’t confirm his words. Only takes a deeper drink. Levi follows suit, a silent salute to the squads he’s lost. 

“I couldn’t do it,” she manages to get out through gritted teeth, “I couldn’t let myself watch them waste away, counting down the hours and minutes until a goodbye.” 

He tilts his head. 

“He’s got two years left.”

She stiffens, hand clenching suddenly too tight on her glass. It shatters. He notes that the only liquid dripping from her palm is whiskey, and is relieved. 

“He wants to see you, Mikasa,” it’s the first time he addresses her as such. There’s conflict in her stormy gaze, but she meets his head on. 

“I’m going to see him one last time before I fuck off and put as much ground between me and that triple-walled fuck-hole as physically possible.” 

He downs his drink, and stands abruptly. 

“I leave tomorrow at dawn.” 

He wakes just a little earlier than intended, waits just a little longer than he usually would to leave. 

She meets him by the gate, pearls pinned in her hair, turmoil in her grey eyes, a horse at her side. In brown suspendered pants and a white button up, they could almost be in uniform again. 

“Captain,” she nods. He’s not been her Captain for five years. 

“Cadet,” he grunts in return. This woman is not the girl who served under him. 

They turn their horses north, and ride for home. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Also, the nude diving is something that was (and in some places, still is) done in Japan. Women called 'Ama' were divers that usually searched for pearls, often nude or wearing just bottoms. 
> 
> There's definitely tension between Levi and Mikasa. Thinking of expanding and doing a travel chapter, but I'm undecided as of yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reach the base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Due to a couple of requests, I've decided to continue this! I'm not sure how frequently I'll update, but for now have this little morsel. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Mikasa is used to stares. She’s always been different, the shine to her black hair, the slant of her eyes, the ivory of her skin. 

This is much of the same. 

They ride through the gates of the capitol and people stare. 

She tunes out the exclamations at the sight of Levi, silent and bored-looking beside her. She even tunes out the murmurs about her. They don’t recognise her – how could they? When she left she’d been sixteen, hair shorn short and a scarf like a brand around her neck. 

Now her hair falls down her back like a glossy waterfall, resting at elbow length. Her neck is exposed as it never really has been within the walls. She’s matured now, into something these people wouldn’t recognise. 

All too soon they arrive at the base. 

She dismounts silently beside Levi, ignoring the curious stares of the many unfamiliar military personnel that mill about. 

It’s Jean who spots her first. 

He’s walking out of the main building as they exit the stables, and stops dead in his tracks. Mikasa levels him with a weighty stare. 

He’s taller, even, than he had been before. His long face is balanced by his refined jaw, and his shoulders and chest seem to be filled out. His hair is longer now. It sits nicely. He’s – He’s handsome, she realises belatedly, wondering how she never noticed all those years ago. 

It feels like only yesterday she waved at him from across the courtyard. The day she left. 

He takes ten long, purposeful strides, until he’s standing before her. She has to look up to meet his eye. 

And then he smiles, and pulls her into a hug. 

“Welcome back, Mikasa.” 

She raises a tentative hand to his back, and rests it there for a moment before he pulls away. 

He nods shortly to Levi, and then continues on towards the stables. 

She blinks at his retreating back, a little baffled. 

Levi steps ahead of her and she follows him as he makes his way through the base. They make it all the way through and out the other side, heading for the dorms when – 

“Mikasa!”

She halts. 

A slight gust of wind blows her hair sideways, and she winces at the pull. It settles. 

Slowly, she turns her head and glances over her shoulder. 

He’s standing at the exit to the building, panting as though he’d run a lap around base to find her. He – He’s filled out now, tall and broad, his hair long and tied back into a low bun. He’s got stubble lining his jaw, and his bright green eyes are intensely focused. 

On her. 

It hits her then, that they never really have been before. 

A nudge in her side she knows Levi doesn’t really want to give. 

She turns around fully, watches Eren watch her. 

In boring brown pants and a white button up with suspenders, she supposes she looks dreadfully plain. But he hasn’t looked away, as though he can’t quite believe she’s standing before him. 

He launches from his spot not ten metres away and her body moves on instinct. 

It’s only after the burst of adrenaline that she realises she’s flipped him over her back and slammed him into the grass. 

He blinks up at her dazedly, and she’s too busy thinking what the fuck to register his lack of counterattack. She realises, blinking down at him, that he’d probably been racing for a hug. But something – something clicked when he charged at her and – and – 

Someone barrels into her, and she’s definitely not prepared. They fall into the grass, and she’s got a face full of blonde hair and shimmering blue eyes and oh my god he has stubble –   
Armin. 

It’s his laugh that makes her want to cry. His stupid, smart, understanding eyes that hold no blame or anger or questioning. His calloused hand to her cheek, his tear splashing on her chin – it’s Armin that makes her feel at home. 

She only realises she’s smiling when he releases her from his tackle-hug and she has time to acknowledge the soreness of her cheeks. 

But then her face is full of brown hair and tanned skin and there’s stubble tickling her neck and a deep breath in smells like sun and grass and Eren, and she might be crying but whatever. 

“Mikasa,” he says again, into her neck, “Mikasa, Mikasa. Mikasa.”

Armin is stroking at her hair, and Eren is stuck to her like glue and she thought this would be more awkward but it’s not. They’re men now, when she’d only remembered them as awkward teenagers on the cusp of yet another growth spurt. 

Eren pulls back only when Levi aims a swift kick at his ribs, barking for them to get up off the fucking floor. 

She doesn’t need it, but she takes the tanned hand offered to her. He pulls her from the ground with way more force than necessary, and as she careens into his chest she realises it was a trap.

He’s hugging her again, tighter. 

She can feel his face in her hair, his deep breaths, his erratic heartbeat. 

Warmth behind her, and Armin’s arms wrap around them both. With a start she realises he’s resting his cheek atop her head, and since when are they both taller than her? What?

They pull back and she blinks up at them. Her heart feels full. She wonders if this is what coming home feels like. 

In a moment she remembers that they have little time left, and she sobers. Would it have been better, to not come back to this at all?

Would time have dulled the news of their passing?

Would- 

“Mikasa,” Armin says, and it stuns her still that she must look up at him. 

“I’m home,” she says softly, tentatively. Arms, still around her, tighten fractionally. She lets them hold on for a little while longer.

.

Mikasa knows she’s beautiful. In much the same way she knows she’s deadly, strong, stoic at times. It’s a fact. It’s never been at the forefront of her mind. 

Well – until now. 

They watch her. 

Eren, Jean – Levi, even. 

The curve of her hip, the flutter of her hair. 

Levi is subtle about it, at least. 

Eren and Jean just stare – her only relief is that they do it while they think she’s not looking. 

She’s sitting with Armin in the mess hall, staring down at her bandaged wrist. 

“So?” he prompts gently, tilting his head. His hair is long now, the top half is secured with a tie, but the bottom half rests against his neck and brushes his shoulders. 

She glances at the book in his hands. It’s labelled 'Oriental Clans of Eldia'. 

“I know you showed us once, back when Maria fell,” his voice is soft compared to the light hearted bickering between Jean and Eren opposite them. “But I can’t remember it.” 

The tips of her fingers brush at the bandage. She hasn’t let herself study it for the longest time. 

With careful movements, she unravels it. Armin’s hands, larger than hers now, settle gently on either side of her forearm as he studies the scar. She forces her eyes from it, and struggles with the wave of memories it brings. 

Her mother, pressing a kiss to her forehead. A soft smile, just for her. The feeling of the blade as her mother makes the mark with a sure hand. Her father’s hand petting her hair, murmuring words of comfort at her tears. 

She can’t remember their faces anymore. Can’t remember the colour of her father’s eyes, or the scent of her mother. Sometimes she sees things that remind her of them. Butterflies, farms, sunhats. The smell of honeyed tea. 

“Mikasa.” 

Eren’s voice brings her back to the mess hall. 

She blinks at him, realising suddenly that her eyes are hot, stinging. 

Armin isn’t touching her anymore, instead flipping through his book, very purposefully not looking at her. 

She stands silently, and leaves the hall. 

Outside, she finds a tree and climbs it. Not with her gear – she’d taken it off in the morning, but with her bare hands. It’s a large tree, with a few low, thick branches. She perches on one, inhaling the scent of pine and grass, and wondering if she’ll ever forget the knife jutting from her father’s chest. 

Still, she can’t look at axes without seeing one descend on her mother. 

She inspects her forearm. 

This scar – it’s the only tangible thing reminding her of home. Her other hand comes up, fingers dancing over the scar on her cheek. 

“Mikasa.”

He’s at the base of the tree. 

She lets her legs dangle off the branch as she glances down at him. 

“Eren.”

He’s staring again. At her face, her hair. The slant of her shoulders, her swinging feet. 

Like he wants to stare forever, drink her in, freeze this moment. 

She tilts forward and drops from the tree, landing in a neat crouch. When she stands he’s still staring. 

“You’re not that girl anymore.” He says lowly, and her mind flashes to Eren at nine, angry and ferocious, intent on saving her and giving her a home. 

She lets a corner of her mouth quirk up as she replies, “And you’re not that boy.”

He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. A large hand reaches out, capturing her wrist and turning her forearm to face him. She lets him scrutinise the scar on her arm, watching his face as he lets the grin fall and his brows furrow. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“Yes,” she says simply, “but mama … she taught me how to make ointment, and showed me how to treat it. And…” a smile creeps onto her face, small and wistful, “she spoilt me for a week afterwards. Let me skip out on the tinder-gathering and allowed me extra time in the garden.” 

Now that she’s started, she can’t stop. 

“I would look for butterflies – these little blue ones. Mama loved them, even when they’d sit on our laundry when it was on the line.” 

Her throat clenches and her eyes sting, but she swallows down the lump forming in her throat.

“I’d try to catch them so she’d get a chance to see,” she explains, laughing lowly, “one day I was making a crown of flowers, and a butterfly flew right to it. Sat on it, even when I put it atop my head.”

She feels the weight of eyes on her face, but she keeps her stare on the scar. 

“Papa came home that day and just stood at the back of the garden, watching me for the longest time. I didn’t realise he was there until he sat down in front of me and helped me weave the crown I was making for mama.”

“The funny thing,” she laughs again, but it feels empty, “I can still remember the flowers I used, can smell them and feel the flutter of wings at my hairline,” she glances up now, into sea green eyes, and smiles, “but I can’t remember their faces.”

A tan hand raises slowly, settling softly against her cheek. A calloused thumb swipes at the scar beneath her eye, and comes off wet. 

She lets tears blur her vision and wonders if she’s ever cried in front of him this way. By the way he’s staring, brows pinched together, concern and grief in the downturn of his lip, she supposes she hasn’t. 

“Silly me,” she steps back, but his hand remains outstretched. 

“Getting worked up over a scar,” Mikasa turns her back to him and glances up at the sky through the swaying canopy. Her arms cross over her chest at the slight breeze, hair tickling the backs of her bare arms. 

She waits for him to say something – anything. 

A warm hand settles on her shoulder, and she lets it rest there. 

They watch the stars, thinking of open plains within a cage of walls, and of purple flowers and a large tree atop a hill. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Not everything should be fine and dandy - and it's not. Eren... he's trying not to be confrontational. He knows she's likely to leave again, and he's scared of that happening. Honestly, he thought he'd never see her again, and now she's here so he forces down his anger and his hurt because she's HERE and REAL and no, he's not dreaming. (He's dreamt about her too many times to count. He wakes with tears in his eyes and burning at the back of his throat. Always.)
> 
> So, yeah. More to come, when my brain decides to spit out a bit more. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things can't be solved by fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I've been very pleasantly surprised to the reaction to this story. Something I started initially as a one-shot kinda grew legs and took off running hahah whoops! I appreciate the support, please enjoy this chapter!

Historia Reiss is a beautiful woman. Doll-like, angelic. Mikasa thinks she suits command, despite her gentle demeanour and small-stature. 

“No need to be so formal, Mikasa,” she smiles, standing from her desk. 

Mikasa lets the fist she’d been holding over her heart drop, observing the blonde as she steps closer. 

“You’re dismissed,” she nods to Eren and Armin, and presumably the rest of her guards lingering at the door. 

“Your majesty, I cannot-”

“You’re dismissed,” says Historia again, no change to the tone of her voice. Mikasa hears the man’s mouth clamp shut, and she stifles a sigh. What reason would she have to hurt the Queen anyway? 

The door shuts behind them. 

Mikasa lets herself relax. The difference in her posture is marginal, a softening to her shoulders, the shift of weight from one foot to another. Historia notices. Blue eyes are fixed on her, and finally her smile drops. 

“Why did you come back?” her tone has lost its underlying steel. Mikasa finds herself relieved.

For a moment there’s only silence between them.

“Levi told me you returned of your own will. Is that true?” 

Mikasa nods. She doesn’t really know what to say. What can she offer to the woman who let one of her most promising soldiers go? How can she explain why she’s come back, to the girl who insisted that her kindness had been false, but had hugged her that day and told her to go and never come back?

A soft sigh, and Historia slumps slightly, making her way to the armchairs beside the fireplace. She sits heavily, and leans into the cushions. Mikasa follows. Takes the seat opposite her. 

“This shit is hard,” her voice is small. Wet. “Harder than I ever thought it would be.” 

A tiny hiccup, “You know, at least once a week I find myself wishing I’d gone with you. Would we go to the mountains? The ocean? A desert?”

Mikasa watches her weary face. Tired eyes stare into the fire, warm orange light flickering in their glossy reflection. 

“The ocean,” she offers gently, “little towns all around the coast. Sometimes islands that take a day to get to by boat.”

Historia is watching her now, a tremble to her lip. 

“We swim naked in the mornings, to look for pearls and oysters. The sun is warm but not too harsh, and the tavern sells whiskey. It’s pretty bad but we drink it anyway and talk about the people and the boats, and all kinds of fruit we came across that we’ve never seen before.” 

Tears. 

A sob - small enough it can only have come from someone well versed in hiding their pain. 

Mikasa stops, and reaches out a scarred hand to settle it over Historia’s smaller one. 

“I’ll take you with me, if you want to go,” she says lowly. “I’d keep you safe. I-I’m not Ymir, but we could be friends, if you wanted to be.”

A sniffle, and the blonde turns her hand beneath Mikasa’s until their palms meet. Small fingers wrap around a calloused palm. 

“Why do we swim naked?” comes the question with a watery smile. 

“Clothes get too heavy when they’re wet,” a small upturn of her lip, “nothing compares to being in the water with only a rope belt and a knife. It’s – You’re so-”

Her brows furrow as she tries to explain. 

“Free?” 

Mikasa nods. 

“Free.”

Historia wipes at her eyes with a white sleeve, and clings tighter to Mikasa’s hand. 

“One day. When I feel like I’ve done enough – take me there?” 

Instead of replying, Mikasa gently pulls her hand free. She raises it to her chest, curling it into a fist as she goes. It rests on her heart, and Historia’s lip trembles anew at the sight. 

.

She’s been back a week when the energy beneath her skin gets the better of her. The improved gym is nice, as are the new clothes designed for it – a result of an experiment of Hanji’s. Tight, elastic, but breathable leggings that sit at the waist, and a supportive bra made from the same material – left outside Mikasa’s room in the barracks on her second day there. 

But running laps around base, doing weight-work, and shadow-boxing isn’t cutting it. 

Restlessness of the like she hasn’t felt in years bubbles to the surface, and she hits the gym, hard. She accidentally breaks two sandbags before she stops, frustrated. 

“Tch,” Levi walks in moments after she’s ruined the second. “You better get that cleaned up.” 

Mikasa levels him with an unimpressed stare, but heads over to the corner where a broom sits and gets to work. 

The next day she enters the gym, tightening her high pony tail with a bag slung over her shoulder filled with water, bandages, and towels. 

Levi is stretching at the sparring mat, donning similar tight leggings and a singlet top that clings to his lean form. He glances over when she sets her bag down, and for a moment their eyes meet. 

Energy fizzles between them, and she begins stretching, even though she knows she doesn’t need to. Over by the bench press she hears a few trainees whispering furiously to one another - something about a battle between humanity’s strongest. 

She meets Levi’s eye again and scoffs quietly. They’re not the last of humanity anymore, and Mikasa is sure there are others who match them in strength. 

Five minutes of stretching later, Mikasa passes a spare roll of bandages to him and they sit cross legged on the ground as they wrap their hands.

Finally they stand facing one another. The mat is just soft enough that you won’t bruise if you get body slammed into it, but firm enough to withstand a fair amount of scuffling. 

At some unspoken signal, they fire into motion. Levi goes in for a punch to the gut, Mikasa dodges until she’s just slightly not-there, grabbing his wrist and jerking him forward as her leg swipes out at his feet.

He jumps, lands lightly. 

Her fist darts up, his head tilts to avoid. 

His leg shoots out, she lifts her own to block – 

It’s – electrifying. They fight, not holding back, a dance in perpetual violent motion. As they move their speed increases, blood warming muscles, and suddenly they’re throwing each other across the floor, landing hits and dodging and damn, Mikasa’s lip is spurting blood, but then again so is Levi’s nose – 

It ends when Mikasa roundhouses at full power into her superior’s chest. He hits the floor with an ‘oof’ and she stops her follow-up knee to the head, panting. A wrapped hand rises to swipe at her sweaty forehead, and she gives him a moment to recover from getting the breath kicked out of him. 

The white of the bandages around her hands is speckled red, and she sniggers as she thinks about his aversion to all things dirty. He’s got just as much blood on him, and it’s satisfying. 

Mikasa knows there’s blood in the grooves of her teeth, but she smiles anyway. The bottom half of Levi’s face is bloodied, and he’s a micro-expression away from scowling, but then the corner of his lip quirks upwards just a fraction – 

And Mikasa’s smile widens. 

She extends a hand and he claps it with his own before using it as leverage to stand. There’s something hovering between them – energy, tension, adrenaline, the invigorating sensation of feeling alive. 

“We’ve got an audience, it seems,” he mutters, but their hands are still clasped between them so Mikasa doesn’t avert her eyes to check. 

“Pity that,” she says softly. They let go. 

Trainees have gathered around, but they stand in silence as they watch the two sparring partners mop up blood with white towels and swipe up their bags before they exit the gym together. As soon as the door closes behind them, chatter breaks out – 

“Did you see that move, holy shit-”

“I didn’t know it was physically possible to look that hot with blood all over your face-”

“-whoosh, and then her leg flew up and BAM, but then he flipped up off the ground and-”

“…fucking monsters, I bet titans stood no fucking chance when they were around-”

“-fuck me, they’re beautiful-”

.

It becomes routine. Sometimes they spar in the gym, but Mikasa prefers being outside. Levi grumbles about grass-stains and dirt, but he follows her out and doesn’t hold his punches. 

Mikasa likes to feel the wind on her skin, the grass when she hits the ground, the sprinkle of rain before Levi forces them back inside. 

She doesn’t bruise easily, but the power of Levi’s hits leave her arms spotted deep purple and sickly green. She’s nice enough to mark up his face for every full-powered body hit. 

No one questions the yellowing bruises on the Squad Leader’s jaw, or his nose, or his numerous black eyes. 

They get better at not hurting one another, and better at reading each other’s styles. 

Some days it feels like they’re dancing, unable to land hits on one another, managing to remain in a state of barely-not-there indefinitely. Her skin buzzes where his hand misses by a hair, electric and alive at the feel of his body heat. She lets none of her elation show on her face until they’re done, when one or the other helps the other off the ground. 

“Mikasa,” Eren sits opposite her at breakfast one morning, “fight me.” 

She takes a bite from her toast and quirks a brow. Back in their trainee days he hated being paired with her. As much as she cared about his wellbeing, it never held her back from taking him as a serious opponent. If he could fight her, he could get better. He hadn’t appreciated being used to wipe the floor often much. 

He’s focused, brows furrowed. She can see tension in the line of his shoulders. 

“Fine,” she says, taking a sip of water, “meet me later.”

When they come together outside at the base of a grassy hill, Levi is already there. 

“What do you want, brat?” he shoots at Eren. 

“He wants to fight me,” says Mikasa blandly, setting her bag down as she falls into some stretches. 

“Oh,” he steps to the side and sits beside her bag, setting his own along with it. “I’ll just watch then. Won’t be a long wait.” 

Eren flushes angrily, but keeps his mouth shut. Mikasa thinks that if he were still fifteen, he’d be eating a mouthful of dirt and grass, courtesy of back-chatting their superior. 

As they stretch, Jean and Armin make their way over, and settle a little ways up on the hill. Connie, Mikasa has learnt, left the military and now runs an orphanage in a rural part of Wall Maria. She knows Sasha’s death affected him greatly, and decides to seek him out the next time she leaves. 

They stand facing each other, Eren towering over her. She takes up a stance, and waits patiently. 

He launches at her, and her body flows into motion. To be fair, he lasts longer than she thought he would. A minute of rapid-fire punches and kicks, but he can’t block all and it’s not long before he slips up and gets thrown across the grass. 

“Well,” Levi says, making to stand-

“Again,” Eren demands, rolling to his feet. “Again.” 

They fight, and he loses. He keeps losing, the three rounds after that. 

“Eren,” Mikasa says, offering a hand to help him off the ground, “are you-”

“I’m fine!” he grunts, slapping her arm away. 

She quirks a brow, “I was going to ask if you were ready to go again, but good to know.” 

He scowls as he stands. His lip is steaming as his body rapidly heals a cut. 

They go again, and Mikasa must be getting lazy because suddenly she’s on her back, his knees to either side of her hips and he’s geared back to punch-

She throws her arm forward and catches his fist in her hand. 

Their arms shake with effort, two opposing forces trembling against one another. 

“Why?” he grunts, sweat dripping from his chin, “Why did you leave?” 

It surprises her enough that her hand buckles, but the punch drives into the ground beside her head. 

“I looked for you,” he spits, “I- I-”

His breath catches in his throat, and Mikasa realises suddenly that their faces are very close. He’s got his hands on either side of her head, hunched forward to glare into her face. 

“It was over. I was finally free, and you disappeared.” 

She can only stare at his face as it morphs between anger and grief and confusion and rage. 

“Why?” he demands. 

“I-” she moves to sit up, but his hand shoves at her shoulder and she’s forced back against the grass. 

“Why?” he hisses, eyes burning bright and furious. 

She doesn’t try to speak again, or even move. She just looks at him, lets her muscles relax so he can see her face without restraint. 

“Why?” he asks, and he sounds broken. His breath hitches, and she knows this has been coming. He’s been supportive, mature, but this has been eating at him for years. 

He lets his eyes close for a moment, and when he blinks them open again she knows that he’s always known. She lets herself take him in fully, unguarded. 

His hair is falling out of the small ponytail at the base of his neck. Some strands stick to his tanned jaw and forehead. Watery green eyes blink rapidly, and chapped lips slant downwards for a wobbly moment. Sweat drips from his chin, landing with small splatters on her chest. 

He’s trembling, with the knowledge that he’s denied all this time, or from fatigue, she can’t tell. 

Slowly, he stands. Steps off her. Walks away. 

She knows she should probably get up and follow him. But when she thinks of coming face to face again, she doesn’t know what she should do. 

It’s not her place to console him. That’s not her job, anymore. 

A pale hand fills her vision, and she traces up along a toned arm to rest at Levi’s impassive face. 

She grasps it, and lets him pull her up. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Armin hurrying after Eren, but she doesn’t let herself turn to look. 

“Ready?” he asks gruffly. 

She steps back, takes a stance. 

He mirrors her silently. 

They fight. 

Mikasa lets herself extend beyond hurt and grief and longing, to a place where near misses light up her flesh, where slight touches linger on her skin and sink into her bones.

She thinks of the ocean and swimming, of stealing Historia away and returning to that town at the end of the world. 

She thinks of Levi, of what it would be like to touch him without the pretence of a fight. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. Chemistry. 
> 
> But also, Eren. Eren is someone I've struggled to like and struggled to hate. He's so- so infuriating, and admirable? How? But also, Eren here is trying so hard that he's almost walking on eggshells. He's forgotten that as a girl Mikasa withstood much worse than his temper, and has dealt with much more difficult situations than anything he'll throw at her. 
> 
> Yes, there's something between Historia and Mikasa, make of it what you will. 
> 
> Yes, there's definitely something between Mikasa and Levi. (I'll probably be making of it for you, though)
> 
> Until next time xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa treads on toes. Levi is infuriating and infuriated. Armin is too pure for this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Another chapter, a shorter one this time. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

By the age of twenty-one, Eren knows he’s his own worst enemy. 

At ten he’d cussed his mother out, intent on following his stupid fucking dreams, sure that he was good and right and – 

And then she died. 

In the years between joining the military and the attack on Shinganshina, he dreamt about her. Her laugh, her ‘I’m-mad-at-you-but-we’re-in-front-of-people-wait-till-we-get-home’ face. Her chicken soup. Her lectures. 

They fade, somewhat, when he joins the military. He focuses on training and channels his anger into his performance.

At sixteen they welcome peace. They celebrate by drinking and eating and partying for a week. 

Three days.

It takes him three fucking days to realise he hasn’t seen Mikasa around. 

At first he asks around, thinking she might be avoiding him. But no one has seen her – no one. Not Armin, who thought she was sick. Not Jean, who Eren is sure stalks her in his free time. Not even Levi, who has every right to know where his squad members are at all times.

When he barges into what was once her room, he finds it empty. On the pillow sits a folded red scarf.

Looking back he laughs at the irony. The next five years would be his penance.

The dreams start, then. 

Of a girl waking him from his nap beneath a big tree on a grassy knoll. Of running through the streets, skidding through the front door to get home just in time. 

Of a woman who doesn’t know him, always just out of reach.

He dreams of a scarf scented like pine and sea-spray and honeysuckle. 

Black hair, fine and silky. 

A smile, small and just for him. 

He wakes with tears in his eyes and an ache in his throat. 

The dreams taunt him. 

.

Eren fumes as he surges up the hill and back to the base. 

“Eren,” Armin is jogging to reach him, “what the hell was that?” 

He ignores the frustrated question, intent on getting anywhere but here as fast as possible. 

“Hey!” a hand closes around his forearm and jerks him to a stop, “We spoke about this. What happened?” 

Eren clenches his jaw, willing the tears in his eyes to just go away. 

“Nothing, Armin.” He tugs himself free and continues to the bathing unit. 

It feels like a titan is sitting on his chest. Heavy, painful. 

He can’t deny that a part of him has always known. He can’t deny that denial has been a vice for him for as long as he can remember. 

He walks through the corridors of the base, but his mind is twelve years in the past. 

Eren recalls the moment outside that cabin with painful clarity.

“Where do I go from here?” she had asked, small and shivering in his father’s too-large coat.

“I’m cold,” a breath, “I don’t… have a home anymore.” Her voice is soft, afraid. He had thought then, as he had before he killed two grown men, only of helping her. 

Around her neck, a scarf. A promise. 

But – when he thinks of the moments before that, he sees desolate grey eyes. A child at a crossroads. 

He… Eren understands that she’s going through that again. A girl, on the edge of the world, about to lose it all. A girl, powerful enough to wage war on giants, helpless in the face of time. 

A girl, saying goodbye to her forever family. 

His heart breaks for her. 

. 

Static hangs between them. Mikasa’s lips tingle, her gaze drawn to Levi’s own mouth. His lips are relaxed, slightly parted as his narrow eyes skim the book before him. 

With great effort she forces her eyes away. 

“You alright?” murmurs Armin from the seat beside her. 

She picks up her cup for something to do, and takes a sip of too-hot tea. It burns, but she doesn’t let herself react. She probably deserves it. 

“Hmm,” she nods, and sets the cup down. The sound of porcelain meeting porcelain seems awfully loud, but no one else occupying the leisure room turns to look her way. 

He’s sitting across the table, but the wood between them does nothing to stop the irresistible urge to stare at him until she’s had her fill. The Captain still doesn’t glance up from his book. 

Silently, she simmers. 

Armin, ever sharp eyed, is watching her closely. 

“Come with me to the sea,” she says bluntly, trying to ignore the sudden eyes on her from across the table. 

“You’d love it there,” her voice is softer now. “People only started moving there a few years ago, but there’s already so many villages and customs. There’s all kinds of fruits and animals that you’ve never seen before.” 

Blue eyes bore into her own. Knowing – always uncannily knowing. 

“It –It doesn’t have to be the sea. We can explore mountains or – or find new places by boat. I just-”

She cuts herself off. Takes a deep breath. 

“I think you’ve done your work here,” she says, barely above a whisper, “come explore with me.”

Silence sits uncomfortably between them. Eren – she should mention Eren, right? But… would he come, if she asked? Does she want to ask him, even? They haven’t spoken since their fight out on the lawn last week. 

“You know I can’t right now, Mikasa.” His voice is deep, nothing at all like the childlike pitch of his youth. 

“Why?” she bites out, louder than intended, “You had dreams before, Armin. Before you knew about the curse. If anything, it should push your to chase them, not to chain yourself here and rot within these walls.” 

Turmoil simmers within those blue depths, and she instantly feels guilty. Suddenly she’s hyper aware of Levi steadfastly pretending to read opposite them. A memory surges to the forefront of her mind with startling clarity – Levi, at sword point as she demanded Armin’s life over the Commander’s. 

This – is this Armin’s misguided attempt at repayment, or atonement? Has his continued life within the walls been out of guilt? 

She sees it now. The weight of expectation upon his slim shoulders. The responsibility, grave in his gaze. 

“Armin-”

He stands abruptly, tucks his book beneath his arm, and leaves without looking back. 

“Fuck,” she huffs when the door clicks shut behind him. A few soldiers in the corner glance over momentarily, but return to their game of chess. 

“Well done,” Levi says dryly, flipping a page languidly. 

“Shut up,” she mumbles, but her tone lacks bark or bite.

She’s not used to this. Treading on toes and hurting people with words. It sucks. Briefly she wonders if this is how Eren feels most of the time. She doesn’t know if the thought makes her want to laugh or cry. 

“You’re not wrong, you know,” Levi’s voice cuts through her self-pitying daze. “But in front of me, really? Brat’s already got an inferiority complex, he didn’t need reminding of Erwin to go with the serving of truth.” 

“Shut up,” Mikasa repeats, but she doesn’t mean it. From the lone raised brow Levi’s sporting, he knows. 

“I wish they would just be selfish,” she sighs, picking up her tea. It’s a much more reasonable temperature, so she downs most of it in a big gulp. 

Levi’s lip curls in disgust. 

“Tea is a civilised beverage, you animal. Treat it with respect.” 

She stares, impassive, before lifting the cup to her lips and finishing the rest in a single swig.

His brow twitches. 

“Only you would drink your tea the way you down your whiskey, you sick fuck.” 

The corner of her mouth tilts up mockingly, but she says nothing as she stands and takes the cup and saucer with her. 

As she makes her way out of the room she hears him grumbling something about her being a fucking psychopath, but she ignores it. For now. He’ll be in a new world of pain when she finishes sparring with him tomorrow. 

Armin couldn’t have gone far. She needs to apologise. 

.

“Hey,” she finds him up on the roof. He’s sprawled on his back, gazing up at the clouds. 

“Hi,” he says back, so softly she would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching his face. 

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately, sitting beside him to stare out over the camp, “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have said any of it in front of Levi.” 

He’s silent. 

“I meant what I said, though. So… yes, I’m sorry for hurting you, it wasn’t my intention. But I won’t take it back.”

A soft laugh, and she does a double take at the fond expression on his face. 

He tugs at her hand, and she slowly reclines to lie beside him. The clouds are fluffy and white as they drift above them. 

“You’re right,” he sighs. “All these years I’ve wanted nothing more than to explore outside – but, here I’ve got responsibilities and-”

“Armin,” Mikasa finds his hand and clasps her own over it. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

He’s still for a moment. 

“I need to start training someone to take over my role,” he says at long last. 

Mikasa stiffens beside him – he has – he has eight years left, he should be fine until he’s twenty-nine-

“Stop thinking so hard,” he chides, squeezing her hand tightly, “I’m not going to be here much longer, and what better way to train someone than to throw them feet-first into the deep end?”

Mikasa quirks a brow at the huge expanse of sky above. 

“Huh?”

“I mean,” there’s a smile in his voice, “I’ll do it. I’ll come with you eventually, once I’ve trained someone up - but we’ll have to be back regularly.”

Speechless, she props herself up on an elbow and twists to face him. 

“You mean it?” she can’t help the tremble to her voice, “You really mean it, Armin?” 

He nods, face settling into the calmest expression she’s seen on him since she returned. 

“Not for two years, at least,” he amends quickly. 

Mikasa feels herself deflate a little, but nods in acceptance. Two years – ah. 

She knows what he’s done. 

Eren… his thirteen years will be up by then. Mikasa doesn’t want to think that far ahead, but the prospect of Armin at her side is a welcome one. 

She settles back down beside him, letting her hair pool beneath her head. 

Together, they watch the clouds drift slowly past. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Eren. I'm unsure how I did with writing his point of view. My apologies if it comes across as clunky, I'm kinda iffy on how to handle him. He seems a little self-loathing and bitter but also weirdly empathetic? Ugh, Eren you kill me. 
> 
> Also, some of you might notice the added Mikasa/Eren tag. I did it bc this story is and has been travelling in various directions, and some of you might've already thought it was Eremika. It's mildly... okay more than mildly - moderately, Eremika. But also Rivamika. Hehehe. 
> 
> And pls be gentle with Eren, like he is rly struggling with guilt at causing Mikasa pain. He hates that he can't do anything, hates that he doesn't know how to comfort her, and mostly, he hates that he doesn't regret anything at all. If he had to, he'd do it all over again, survey corps, titan serum, curse of Ymir - he'd choose it every time. 
> 
> Thank you guys for your continued support. I can't (and I CANNOT stress this enough) thank you enough for the kind comments and introspective discussions. You guys are the best.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get... steamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I've upped the rating and added a few tags. I mean, this is definitely not what I had in mind when I began this fic, but again - it's got a life of its own. 
> 
> Enjoy, let me know what you think!

Mikasa stretches out over her branch, staring up at the starry sky. She’s been here long enough that this tree could be classified as hers, now. 

Footsteps below, but she doesn’t glance down. Only a handful of people know where to find her at this hour, and only one has the motivation to. She listens as he scales the tree, swearing under his breath as he breaks a few small branches in his attempts. 

Finally he hoists himself up to where she’s sitting. The branch sways dangerously as he settles his full weight on it, and she lets her gaze wander from the moon to his face. 

He’s watching her. She watches back. 

He clears his throat, and tilts his head back to look at the clear sky. Mikasa observes his face through the filter of moonlight. It throws his already strong features into further contrast, green eyes almost glowing. 

“I hope you know I didn’t mean to get so angry the other week.” 

The wind picks up a little, colder as autumn draws to an end. 

“Hm,” she only hums in response, letting her head fall back to watch the night sky. 

“I… get it,” he says, “why you left. I wish you hadn’t, but I understand.”

A small weight releases itself, dissipating from her shoulders to melt up towards the stars. 

“I’m sorry,” she offers, sincere. “I-I didn’t think you’d care that much.” 

His breath gets caught in his throat and she waits for him to start breathing normally again before she continues. 

“That fucking curse,” the swear falls from her lips easily, “makes me feel like a kid again. Watching my mother bleed out.” 

Eren, for once, is silent. 

“I shouldn’t have left. But the thought of staying made me want to throw myself from the walls without gear.”

The leaves rustle with another gust of wind. 

“I get it,” Eren repeats, and silence settles between them like a warm blanket. 

Comfortable. 

Mikasa lets out a long breath, and stretches her arms above her head. Her back pops lightly, and she stifles a laugh at Eren’s grimace. 

“Nasty,” he grumbles as they begin their descent. 

They walk back to base side by side, breath fogging before them as dead leaves crunch underfoot. 

It’s cold enough that Mikasa wishes longingly for her scarf. 

.

Hange’s eye narrows at Mikasa over the stack of paperwork piled on her desk. 

“Resign formally, eh?” with a shove she pushes the relative mountain of work to the side, and extends a hand for Mikasa’s papers. 

“I… know it’s only a formality at this point,” Mikasa beings respectfully, “but I’ve done nothing to earn my continued place in the ranks.” 

Hange skims the papers quickly before her gaze jumps to rest on Mikasa’s face. 

She blinks blankly as the commander surveys her expression carefully. 

“This will mean you can leave at any time without notifying me.” There’s a curious tone to her voice. 

“I did so last time only out of concern for a misunderstanding,” Mikasa clarifies, “and you… understood.” 

Hange nods, and flips to the end of the documents to sign messily. 

“Done,” she sets it on a small pile of what Mikasa guesses is finished paperwork. 

“Commander?” she knows she owes this woman much, “If you need me. In the future. I’ll fight for you.” 

A heavy moment of silence. 

Hange presses her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose, and smiles. 

“I may be taking you up on that.”

Mikasa leaves, feeling lighter than she has – well, ever. The weather is turning, shifting towards brittle winds instead of rain. 

She wonders whether Levi will welcome the cold-packed ground over the squelchy mud he’s been sneering at the past few weeks, or whether he’ll hate the sludge of snow. 

.

She stands before the new recruits, stony and still as she watches Jean pace back and forth. He’s tall, commanding their full attention as he lectures them on the use of their manoeuvre gear in different terrains. 

“…mainly for the purpose of cutting down titans, yes. But we’ve found that the gear provides various uses outside of that setting, both combative and non-combative.” 

Mikasa listens with half an ear, supressing a shiver as a gust of air cold enough to set teeth chattering swooshes past. Her hair is tied back into a low bun, which leaves her neck open for the biting wind. She itches to move, to get her blood flowing so she doesn’t have to stand here tensing to hide the shivers attempting to wrack her frame. 

“…Mikasa will demonstrate the use of the manoeuvre gear in three different terrains.”

He nods to her, and she turns to face the obstacle course set up before her. Wooden beams hang between a few trees, old titan dummies are scattered throughout the area sparsely. Overall, it’s not optimal for the use of the gear. 

She takes a running start and gives them a show anyway. 

The moment her hooks fire, her blood burns with elation. Airborne, she is free. 

In the ocean she feels calm, at peace. Safe, even when she probably shouldn’t.

But in the air, Mikasa feels alive. 

Somewhere between flipping high above the tree line and then diving straight towards the ground, she forgets this is a demonstration. 

She glides from her course to the next one easily, and takes joy in the wooded paradise. She flips and tumbles and dives – races as fast as she can and then cruises around corners. Skims low enough to the earth that she feels frosty grass poke at her exposed hands. 

By the time she comes to a stop before the group, who are panting themselves after racing over from the previous course, her hair is windswept and her cheeks are flushed. 

“Now, for the third terrain,” Jean announces, unfazed despite the gaping recruits. 

They head back to base, and Mikasa gives a short demonstration of the use of buildings to optimise the gear. Again, she scrapes low to the cobblestones, propels herself over rooftops only to change direction mid-air with a well-timed hook. She leads the rookies on a trip through base. None keep up with her half as well as Jean. 

They come to a stop in the main courtyard, and together they watch the recruits drop into the cobblestoned area, gasping and sweating despite the chill in the air. 

“They seem promising,” she comments, crossing her arms across her chest. 

Jean nods, jerking his chin to the few early-comers, “Yeah, a couple are from the capitol. Stole gear whenever they could, so they went into training a little more familiar. Still have some work to do, but this lot is shaping up nicely.” 

Mikasa hums in approval, and heads back inside. She’s barely broken out into a sweat, but the prospect of a hot steam room sends her straight for the bathing unit without pause. 

In the change room she carefully removes her gear, and then her clothes, and sets them in a locker. She rinses at the showers, and heads for the steam room. When she enters, clad in only a towel, she can’t see anyone else in the relatively small space. Of course, there’s steam obscuring almost everything anyway, so she doesn’t particularly care if anyone else is in there. 

She takes off her towel and stretches out on the wooden seat to her right. Inhaling deeply, she feels the steam relaxing her muscles. Tension rolls out of her shoulders as sweat pools in the dip of her collarbone and beads on her forehead. Her eyes drift shut as she gives in to her body and relaxes completely.

The door opens and Mikasa scowls at the sudden inrush of cool air. It closes quickly, and she hears a very familiar voice cursing at the limited visibility. 

“Shut up,” she mumbles, but her body is lax and calm so she can’t really muster up any feeling. 

“I’ll do what I wa- you know you’re not meant to be naked in here, right?” 

Mikasa waves a hand in his approximate direction, “Whatever. Never knew you gave a shit about rules.” 

“I don’t,” he gripes back, and she smirks. He takes a seat and sighs lightly. 

“What’s your obsession with nudity, anyway? You seem to take every opportunity to abandon civilised attire.”

“What’s your obsession with me being naked?” she quips back, snickering. “And. Well, I like it. I feel free.”

Silence, as the steam fills the space between them. The rustling of fabric, a pause. A deep, slow breath. 

“You’re right,” he hums. 

Mikasa’s eyes fly open and she’s bombarded with thoughts that her very attractive, very unavailable ex-superior is very naked not four metres away. 

Despite the warm air she shivers. 

Would his skin taste salty, with all this heat and sweat? 

She bites her lip and wonders. 

What would he do, if she walked over and sat beside him? 

She swings her legs over the side of the bench and sets her feet on the ground. 

Would he push her away, citing inappropriate relations between military ranks? 

Then she would tell him that she was no longer part of the military, formally.   
If she gets up right now, and straddles him – what would he do? 

She… doesn’t know. 

Squinting, she tries to make out his form on the bench across from her. 

The steam is thick and heavy, and she can’t even see his silhouette. 

“Captain,” she begins, voice husky, “can you see me?”

A pause. 

“No.”

Slowly, her hand moves from its place on the bench to trace up her stomach, flitting over her ribs. She grasps a pert breast in her hand and squeezes. 

“What about now?” if her voice is slightly breathless, she blames the callouses on her hands.

“For fucks sake, if you can’t see me how am I meant to see you?” 

Her other hand drifts lower, dips between her legs. Her finger swirls tantalisingly slow. Heat burns at her core.

"I saw you today, though," his voice is deep, gravelly. She imagines it breathless against the shell of her ear. "With your gear. You - It looked like you were flying."

Her finger flicks at a peaked nipple and she bites back a moan. Her head falls back against the wooden wall. 

“Now?” she’s definitely let something seep into her tone, but she figures she doesn’t really care. "Can you see me now?"

She hears him move, and she’s overwhelmed with excitement that he might step closer – that he might finally do something to break this tension between them – 

But then the door opens and in a cold surge of air he’s gone. 

Mournfully, Mikasa wonders whether she might catch a glimpse of his naked ass if she pokes her head out now. Sighing deeply, she stops her ministrations and squeezes her legs closed, resigning herself to frustration.

She sulks in the steam room for another ten minutes before rinsing off and heading to dinner. The captain is absent.

“You okay?” Armin asks as she slides onto the bench opposite him. “You seem a little flushed.” 

“Steam room,” Mikasa lies easily. 

She can’t stop thinking about Levi’s naked ass. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Less emotional heavy lifting here (oh... don't worry... there will be plenty in the near future haha) and more practical day in the life type stuff. Jean is very good with training up new recruits - people trust him. He's empathetic enough to vibe with the youngins and has the charisma and leadership skills to garner respect and attention. He's like that favourite teacher at school or university (if you were lucky enough to have one) that you felt like you could tell anything to. 
> 
> Mikasa, utilising manoeuvre gear = sex-in-air (like sex-on-legs, but airborne hahaha). YES Levi saw the demonstration. MAYBE he noticed she was heading to the bathing unit. And he DEFINITELY saw her step into that steam room. 
> 
> And some of you may be wondering - DID Levi see anything when he made to leave? I mean... what do you think? Use your deductive skills and let me know ;) 
> 
> I have dubbed Levi's ass 'the glutes of glory' because he has glutes and they are no doubt impeccable. Thanks for coming to my ted talk xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings, meet roller coaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> My apologies for the wait, I was super busy over the weekend. I hope this makes up for it. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

It’s cold enough now that Mikasa finds herself shivering between buildings around the base. She didn’t expect that she would have stayed so long. None of her clothes are suited for winter, and she’d lived as far south as she could manage in her five years away. 

With a start she realises it’s been almost eight months since she returned to base. She’s almost twenty-two now. And… she can’t stay, can she? She can’t say goodbye. 

As she tilts her head towards the sky, snow begins to fall. 

.

She hears footsteps, crunching lightly in the snow behind her. 

“What are you doing?” 

His voice is husky, but it’s not a question – not really. The bag slung over her shoulder is answer enough. 

Footsteps, closer again. 

A slight rustle of fabric. 

And then something soft, something worn, is draped over her shoulders and messily flicked around her neck to land atop her head. 

Her hand comes up slowly, stroking at the deep red wool. Grey eyes close as she inhales deeply. Grass, snow, Eren. 

She can’t move – can’t do anything aside from stand there in the cold, a scarf wound gently around her neck. 

She can feel the heat of him behind her.

He’s still here. He’s still alive. 

Her eyes sting and her throat burns and her hand clenches around a fistful of red wool as she struggles to keep her emotions in check.

“Stay warm,” his voice is hoarse, “stay safe.”

Her shoulders begin to tremble. And suddenly the dam breaks, and she realises that Eren is going to die. 

He’s going to _die_. 

He’s going somewhere she can never follow. 

He’ll – He’ll never swim in the ocean with her, or climb mountains, or hole up in a cabin to hideaway from the snow. 

He’ll never wrap this scarf around her again. 

And he – he had promised to, hadn’t he? 

She only realises she’s sobbing when her knees hit the cold ground. Her chest aches with its burning need for air, but silent spasms wrack her frame and take control of her. She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes to stem the flow of tears but it doesn’t work.

She’s shaking, she realises distantly, shaking like she never did when faced with titans or guns or the threat of death. Large hands close over her wrists and tug her trembling hands into their own. 

She struggles to inhale, but it hurts. It hurts, and Eren and Armin are going to die. 

Mikasa – she - she’s not ready. 

Her cheek hits something firm and warm and she drags in a shuddering breath. The air is cold enough that it feels like swallowing ice. It gets caught in her throat, in her tight chest. 

She wishes she could scream – that she could yell and rage and ensure that the world knows how angry and ruined she is. 

But like always, her destruction is contained neatly within the cage of her ribs. She aches and burns and her heart beats steady through it all. 

She wishes it wouldn’t. 

Mikasa aches for her mother. Yearns for soft arms around her and the scent of lavender and spices. For Carla’s hand combing through her hair as she rocks her through a nightmare. 

They – her mother, Carla – are gone. Somewhere she can’t follow yet. And Eren – he’ll beat her to them, hold them close. Will he think of her with them in his arms? They’ll take care of him, right? They’ll protect him? 

But – If they’re all gone, who’s left for Mikasa? 

Snow is falling and she’s gasping, choking, leaking tears and snot and grief. 

Against his chest she can feel Eren’s breaths hitching around his own tears. It only makes her cry harder. 

Words, she can’t get them out. Eren is shaking now too, tears streaking down his pink face. She’s sure she might die when a headache blooms behind her eyes with such raging intensity she almost passes out. 

“Guys,” Armin is there suddenly, and now there’s two sets of arms holding her and this is even worse. 

_You can’t leave me here alone_ , says the hands fisted in their shirts. 

_I’m sorry_ , says the hand stroking at her hair. 

_We tried_ , says the thumb swiping at her cheek above an old scar. 

_Please_ , her forehead pressed against a broad chest. 

_I love you_ , murmurs Eren’s heartbeat against her skin. 

When they pull apart, Armin has snowflakes on his eyelashes. Eren’s nose is bright red, and his hair is fluffy and white. 

Mikasa knows she must be a sight. She’s never cried this hard or long in her life. Her pants are soaked through, and her hands are stiff and cold. The icy wind chaps at her cheeks, and she knows she must look like some kind of patchy white and red snot monster. 

The thought makes her laugh. She laughs until she cries, until she thinks she might be sick. 

And then she realises she doesn’t want them to remember her like this. Sobbing and messy, clinging like a child at a future that can never be. 

She stands, knees creaking from the cold and disuse. She’s still shivering, but Armin and Eren huddle close as they make their way back to the dormitories. It’s late, most people are sharing whatever booze they can get their hands on or goofing off in the mess hall. 

No one comments on her undoubtedly dishevelled appearance, and Mikasa is glad. She doesn’t know what she’d do if someone had the guts to call her out on it. 

“Mikasa,” Armin’s voice is thick, low. “Don’t be so hasty. Let us – Let us come with you, this time.” 

She keeps her gaze resolutely at the end of the hallway, where the stairs to their rooms lead. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she says. Her voice scratches in her throat, half-gone and husky. 

If Eren flinches to her left, she ignores it. 

“I-” 

But she’s tired and embarrassed and cold and she doesn’t want to listen to Armin try to soothe her or convince her of anything. She forges forward and up the stairs to her hallway without waiting for him to finish. 

.

“Huh.”

She glances up at Levi as he enters the gym. 

“Thought you’d be gone by now.” 

Her eyes snap back to the wrappings on her hands and she resolutely ignores his gaze on her face. She hadn’t breathed a word to anyone, sans Historia. 

“You were fighting oddly,” says Levi as way of explanation, setting his bag beside hers before taking her proffered roll of bandages. 

She lets herself look at him. He’s as pale as she is in this characteristically freezing winter, but he looks well rested. There’s no bags below his eyes, nor any sallowness to his skin. His hair has grown out of its undercut, but it’s still short and neat. 

His features are delicate, refined. He could be pretty, if his eyes weren’t so sharp, nor his jaw so defined. 

“I was fighting oddly,” she repeats deadpan. 

He keeps wrapping his hands as she levels him with an incredulous stare. 

“Right,” she averts her gaze, and stretches. 

When she’s done she focuses on getting in a few sit ups while he does his own routine of stretching. 

“You could have told me,” he says casually, as though they’re discussing the weather, “I’d have gone with you, brat.”

She doesn’t halt in her sit ups, revelling in the mild burn of her abdomen. 

“Like you care,” she grunts, watching him from the corner of her eye. 

He’s frowning, but it could be from her or the deep stretch he’s just transitioned into. 

“I came with you here, didn’t I?” he questions, muffled by the fact that his face is, in fact, pressed into his knee. 

“That’s different,” she huffs, lips pressing together in a line as she tries to remember her sit-up count. 

“Hardly,” a groan as he sits up and stretches his arms upwards. 

“Hmph.” She’s too busy trying figure out how many fucking sit-ups she’s actually done now. Thirty? Forty? 

“Next time,” he says, standing. “Next time I’m coming too.” 

She lets herself lie back on the floor and doesn’t get back up. 

“What?” he peers down at her and nudges her tentatively with his foot, “Are you broken or something?” 

“No,” she says, and then cringes, “Why is everyone being so nice to me all of a sudden? It’s disturbing.” 

She lifts a hand and he grasps it and pulls her to her feet. 

“What, you want me to call you a fucking animal and insult your hygiene?” Levi quips, readying his stance. 

Mikasa does the same, forces her body to relax despite his heated gaze on her. 

“Yep,” she darts forward, offers a friendly uppercut that he dodges almost leisurely, “and I sincerely hope this newfound softness doesn’t extend to your fighting style.”

He looses a few kicks, and she blocks lazily. 

“You telling me you like being slammed against the floor, or crushed up against me?” there’s a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and Mikasa takes it as her queue to end their warmup. 

Her fist strikes out full force, and they’re moving in sync instantly. Mikasa loses herself in the movement, and feels like she can finally _breathe_ again. It’s not long before she has him in a chokehold. 

He taps out against her leg, and as she loosens her hold she says, “Yes. I like it.” 

He rolls away from her, and when their eyes meet his gaze is dark, heavy. 

They lunge at each other again, fists swinging.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Hmm. Angst is tagged, okay? You knew this was coming. Mikasa is not okay and tbh she's had a minor breakdown in the works for a while. Please don't hate me hahaha. 
> 
> Until next time xx


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams, old and new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> I am so so so so sorry for how long this chapter has taken! I wrote a rough version a few weeks back, and then got caught up in real life things and left it completely untouched until about an hour ago. I apologise again, but please know the next chapter has already been written and is just in need of editing so the wait won't be nearly as long! 
> 
> Please enjoy xx

It’s still dark when Mikasa makes her way onto the roof of the barracks. She sits, drawing her knees to her chest as she gazes out over the silent base, lingering on the distant skyline. It’s still cold enough that she’s glad for the blanket she hurriedly snatched from the end of her bed. 

She’s only been outside for half an hour when she hears quiet scuffling, and a familiar figure appears at the side of the roof. He pulls himself up with a grunt, and does a double take when he spots her – but he pauses only for a moment before he slowly makes his way over. 

“Bad dream?” Jean asks, settling beside her gingerly. 

She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and lets her hair fall loose to hide her face. 

“No,” a soft mumble. They sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the steady light of the moon filter over the buildings and training grounds. 

“It was… a good dream,” she says into her knees. “I was – we were – old.”

Jean hums softly, brings a hand up to rake through his hair. 

“We were sitting on a porch by the sea,” she continues haltingly, “there were children running and playing in the sand. Our hair was grey and I think Eren was part deaf.” A wistful chuckle, “Armin was reading even though he was squinting into a huge pair of old man glasses.” 

Her breath hitches a little, but she keeps her composure with a few steady breaths. 

“I wanted so badly for it to be real,” she confesses, a whisper. 

Jean says nothing for a while. Only the sound of their breathing and the slight fog of their exhales fills the space between them. 

“I have dreams like that sometimes,” he muses, sounding uncertain. “With Marco and Sasha. And-” he laughs dryly, “you’re going to think this is fucked up – but sometimes Reiner and the others, too.” 

Mikasa listens, pressing her cold nose into her scarf as she pulls the blanket tighter around her. 

“We’re normal. No war, no titans. We just talk and play drinking games. Sometimes we’re old and sometimes we’re young.” 

He tilts his head back and sighs up at the stars. 

“I wake up feeling-” he inhales sharply before sighing again, “disappointed.”

“It would have been nice,” Mikasa struggles to get past the ache at the base of her throat, “to grow old together.” 

They sit together, out in the cold until the pale light of dawn peers over the foggy horizon. 

Before they go their separate ways in the dorms, Mikasa stops Jean with a hand on his arm. 

He blinks down at her, and she carefully takes in the bags beneath his eyes and his ruffled hair. 

“If you ever want to talk,” she offers, a little stunted, “about your dreams – or work, or anything. Come find me.” 

He smiles lopsidedly, “And if you’re half way across the world?” 

She stares back at him unflinchingly, “Come find me.” 

His smile drops and his shoulders droop a fraction. Mikasa sees stress in the line of his spine, clenched along his jaw. She wonders how he does it.

Jean is a good leader, a good friend, a good soldier. How can he give so much of himself to everything he does? 

It must be exhausting. 

“Thank you,” he says, sounding worn. 

She offers a smile, and heads up her stairway. 

. 

Mikasa can’t find Levi. He’s not in the gym, or out on the training grounds. Nowhere to be found around the bathing unit, either. 

“Hange,” she addresses the Commander from her place in the doorway, but the woman interrupts her as she opens her mouth to speak-

“He’s at the memorial stone,” she doesn’t even look up from the paperwork on her desk. 

Mikasa blinks at her, wonders briefly what the fuck a memorial stone is, and leaves after giving a short bow in thanks. It takes questioning Armin to realise where he is and why. 

“After the war ended… Historia erected a monument in honour of those who had fallen before and during the fighting,” his eyes are faraway, hands cradled absently around a steaming cup of tea. 

“It’s got their names – all of them. Thomas, Nina. Marco. Sasha…”

He trails off, and Mikasa carefully reaches out a hand and places it on his shoulder. 

His eyes find hers, and she pulls the cup from his hand and tugs him in for a hug. He leans into her shoulder and reaches up to hug her back. 

“Where is it?” she asks once his eyes don’t look so haunted. 

He hands her a map with the location marked out, and she throws a bag together with water, fruit and bread before she heads out to the stables and secures a horse. 

.

The memorial stone is less of a singular stone and more a small labyrinth of tall gravestone-like plinths atop a grassy hill. Glossy and black, the small script of names filling each metre-wide and three-metre tall stone on either side is humbling. Some have fresh flowers at their base, others small nubs of candles that have burnt all the way down. 

She finds him kneeling in front of one hidden away in the middle of the sombre bunch. 

He’s got one knee bent, and he’s resting his forearm on it, head bowed. His other hand is lying in front of him, face-up in the grass. In it, she can make out Scouting Legion patches – the embroidered kind that goes on the front of their uniforms. 

She wordlessly scans the stone, and spots a few names that jar her back six years, to a mission gone horribly wrong and an injury caused by her carelessness. 

_Eld Jinn_   
_Oluo Bozado_   
_Petra Ral_   
_Gunther Schultz_

Her gaze drops to Levi then, taking in the stiffness of his shoulders, the minute twitch of his fingers. 

Treading loudly even though she’s sure he knows she’s there, she comes to a stop right beside him. After lowering herself to her knees, she sits respectfully the way her mother had taught her to in the home shrine dedicated to her deceased grandparents. 

Placing her hands on the ground before her, Mikasa lowers herself into a formal bow, until her forehead grazes the grass. She holds the position as she offers a small prayer of gratitude to the dead. 

Once she’s done, she holds the position for a moment longer. Her back hurts a little from the bow, but she doesn’t mind the mild ache. The scent of fresh grass and the faint tickle of pollen at her nose are a reminder of the coming spring. 

Slowly she sits up, blinking into the bright sunlight and finding the names of the Special Operations Squad once more. 

Levi, as far as she can tell, hasn’t moved. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says softly, voice accompanied by only the faint chirp of birds in the distance. 

He says nothing, but his head raises from its bowed position enough for his eyes to meet their names upon the stone. They look cold, dead. 

It makes Mikasa uncomfortable for reasons she’s not entirely sure of. 

“I was their captain,” he murmurs, and his voice is husky from disuse. “It was my job to protect them and – I failed.”

Mikasa watches him out of the corner of her eye. 

“It was your job to ensure Eren was safe,” she corrects, “you had no way of predicting the future. You did all you could.” 

Her throat tightens as her mind drifts to Eren and Armin, and the helplessness she feels. 

“It wasn’t enough,” he sounds angry now, “it’s never enough, not for them, not for Erwin, not for-”

He cuts himself off, fist clenching around the scraps of fabric he’s clung to all these years. 

“I… get it,” she lets her gaze wander the sky, blue with scattered clouds. “We’re… humanity’s strongest, and we still can’t protect those who mean the most.” 

He makes a sound at the back of his throat, like a wounded animal barely restraining itself.

“What’s the point?” he growls angrily, and when she glances over to him his eyes are shut. “Of all this strength? I don’t _want_ to be the last one standing. _I don’t want it._ ” 

She shifts until she’s kneeling in front of him. Hands on his shoulders, she leans forward until their foreheads meet gently. 

“That’s our burden,” she breathes as her eyes slip closed, and her voice sounds stronger than she feels, “we can do our best, and even then it won’t be enough. But we’ll still try. Every time.” 

He snorts, and it sounds a little like a sob. 

“Burden? More like a curse, brat.” 

“A curse, then,” she says through a smile, “humanity’s strongest, doomed to watch their loved ones die.” 

“Oh, hilarious,” he scoffs, but there’s a hint of laughter in his tone, “in front of my dead team, perfect timing. That really makes me feel better, thanks Mikasa.” 

She leans back and sits on her legs, laughing at his expression. He’s trying not to smile, but she can see a spark of something in his eyes that isn’t cold and empty and dead. 

She stands, and extends a hand to him. Though he doesn’t need it, he accepts the support and lets her pull him to his feet. 

“I understand,” she says, no humour left in her tone. “I… I know how you’re feeling and I know why. But – But trust me in this.”

She squeezes his hand, a promise. 

“I won’t fall. I won’t let you be the last one standing. We’ll weather this bullshit curse and retire old and undefeated in a seaside cottage, you watch!” 

His nose crinkles in disgust, “Fuck the sea, sand is disgusting. I want a cabin hidden in the mountains where no one can fucking find me so I can die in peace.” 

“The ocean is nicer than the mountains,” Mikasa says as they turn for their horses, still holding hands. 

“Then you can stay there and keep the fuck away from me while I grow old.” 

“I’m not averse to that,” she snarks, “you’re grumpy as fuck now, can you imagine you as a shrivelled old man?” 

“Oh, fuck off,” he grunts, but there’s the slightest hint of a smile on his face as he says it. He squeezes her hand lightly and she knows this is his way of saying thank you. 

She squeezes back much too tightly, and he yanks his hand away from her with a yelp. 

He knows that’s her way of saying you’re welcome, though, so it’s not so bad. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I noticed many of you were enjoying the Rivamika moments/scenes, and this one was stuck in my head for a while. I feel like Mikasa and Levi are stuck in this horrible cycle of being skilled and powerful enough to protect themselves, but so often can't defend/protect those in their care. Levi, especially - Isabel and Farlan, the Special Ops Squad, even the few members of Hange's team that were with him when Kenny ambushed him - he seems to be stuck watching those under his care get picked off like flies. 
> 
> Levi understands Mikasa and the slow torture of letting go of Eren and Armin more than anyone. And Mikasa, well - she knows the self-loathing Levi is going through intimately.
> 
> Find: two gloomy souls pulling each other out of self-hate to make inappropriate jokes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wave hello, and wave goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> As promised, here's the next chapter without a 3-week gap. Had a bit of fun writing this one. Some of you called it, which I'm very happy to note. 
> 
> Please enjoy :)

“An expedition?” Mikasa blinks uncomprehendingly at the Commander. She can feel Armin’s eyes on her face, but she ignores him as best she can. 

“I know you are officially no longer part of the military,” says Hange from her place at the window. Her hands are clasped behind her back as she stares out over the base. “But I appreciate that you are well travelled, and as a reward for my long-term officers, and a learning experience for some of the newer cadets, I’ve decided to commission an expedition.” 

Mikasa finds herself speechless. 

“If you accept, you’ll be surveying the coastline to the south of the wall.” 

Controlling her movements very carefully, Mikasa walks over to the Commander’s desk, picks up a pin meant for the cork board on the far wall, and pricks her wrist. It stings, and a bead of blood dribbles down her arm. 

“Hm,” she acknowledges that she can’t be dreaming, then. 

“I’ve not put together a team, but I have informed those who I will permit to go and the decision to go forward with it rests with them.” 

Mikasa thinks there might be something wrong with her tongue. It’s terribly heavy inside her mouth. 

“You leave in two days.” 

.

Standing at the stables, Mikasa wonders if she’s ever been this nervous before. She hadn’t breathed a word of the trip to anyone, hadn’t even discussed it with Armin who had been present for Hange’s briefing. 

Just before dawn Levi appears and she lets a small breath of relief escape her. Tightness she hadn’t know she was carrying dissipates. 

Jean strides over leading a large group of cadets – about twenty or so – smiling all the while. They’re mounting their horses, about to leave, when the door to the stables smashes open with a bang and Eren and Armin come skidding around the corner, panting heavily. 

“Sorry we’re late!” yells Eren, scrambling for a horse, “I slept in and Armin forgot to submit his handover last night so we had to track down the officer and wake them up and explain everything-”

He takes a huge breath and then continues. 

“And then I forgot my pack so I had to run back and I for sure thought you were gonna be gone already-”

He pants hard, leaning his palms on his knees to catch his breath and Mikasa stares silently from her spot on the back of her war horse. 

“Well,” she says into the startled silence that follows Eren’s outburst, “get a move on. We don’t have all day.” 

As they ride out of base, Eren chattering excitedly to her left, Armin and Jean deep in conversation somewhere behind her, Levi surveying the countryside impassively to her right, she wonders how they managed to corner her like this. 

_Well_ , she thinks amusedly, _it’s going to be rather hard to run away if they all come with me._

Excitement bubbles up within her as she thinks of her friends and the sun and the salty spray of the ocean. 

.

The sight of the ocean makes Mikasa want to cry. They stand on a cliff, and from it she can see a beach and a town. She peers over the edge, assessing the drop and the rocks below carefully. 

“What are you looking for?” Armin questions as he glances over the side with her. 

“Rocks,” she supplies, and then takes a step back and toes her boots off. 

Behind her she can hear a few of the party quick enough to have caught up to them approach. 

Socks come off next, and then her cloak. 

“Take my stuff down for me, will you?” she’s breathless with excitement as she strips off her jacket and begins unbuttoning her shirt. 

“What?” the man beside her is slowly flushing an alarming shade of red. 

Mikasa focuses on pulling her pants and underwear down swiftly, and then almost rips off her bindings in her haste. 

“M-Mikasa!” 

Eren’s shout from behind her makes her pause for a second. She lifts a hand and tugs at the tie in her hair. It spills free over her shoulders, brushing the small of her back. She turns, takes five paces towards him. Jean is standing beside him, gaping.

“Not this shit again,” she hears Levi mutter as he crests the hill. 

And then, with a brief smile, she spins, and sprints back to Armin – no, past Armin – and leaps off the cliff. The shouts from behind her get muted as the wind rushes past her, and she focuses intently as her body flows into a perfect dive. 

Her hands break the surface, and then her head, and her shoulders – she’s submerged fully before she can take time to appreciate the cool water. 

Beneath the crystalline waves, her hair spills out behind her. The gentle lull of the current tugs at the loose strands, and for a moment she rests, suspended weightlessly. 

When she kicks to the surface and takes in a lungful of air, salty sea spray flavouring her tongue, she feels at home. She turns and floats on her back, waving up at the four faces peering over the edge of the cliff. It hadn’t been that high, truly. Maybe thirty or forty metres. 

She lets her body glide through the water as she makes her way around the bend of the cliff towards where she knows the beach is. Before she gets far, she hears a whoop behind her – and glances up just in time to watch a blur plummet from the cliff to land rather ungracefully in the sea. 

A few seconds pass – and then a soaked head of brunet hair emerges, and Eren is shaking out his hair with a breathless laugh. Another moment – 

Armin’s yell echoes off the cliffside, but when he resurfaces he’s smiling more widely than Mikasa can remember seeing before. 

Swimming, like most things, is something Mikasa excels at. She glides around the both of them easily while they wrestle with the pull of the waves in an attempt to familiarise themselves with ocean-swimming. 

She doesn’t let herself think too hard about the fact that Armin had only been wearing underwear, and that she’s sure in the few seconds she’d seen Eren in the air, he had been naked. 

“Come on,” she laughs as a small wave smacks Eren in the face and almost sends Armin reeling. 

She leads them towards the shore, shows them how to swim parallel to the suction-like tug of the waves, and eventually they’re close enough to land that Eren and Armin can stand. 

“Rude,” she huffs as she swims between the pair, “who allowed you to both get taller than me?”

“We’re not the only ones who grew, Mikasa,” Eren grins, reaching out to swipe at her ankle and tug her closer. 

Belatedly, he seems to remember that they’re both naked, and that he’s touching her very bare leg. And that he can see her very bare body, in these clear waters. 

He lets go quickly. 

Mikasa shares a look with Armin, who is flushed still, but from the exertion of swimming half a kilometre. He seems to not mind her nudity so much anymore. 

With a shrug Mikasa pulls further towards land with a few powerful strokes, catching a ride with a wave until she can feel sand, soft beneath her feet. On the beach, the majority of the party is splashing about, squealing and yelling and some outright leaping into the water. 

Mikasa stands, letting water run from her shoulders and hair as she strides through the waves and looks for her things. Most of the recruits stare, but she ignores them and eventually they go back to minding their business. 

It’s Jean who hands over her cloak, all her things folded neatly within it. 

“Thank you, Jean,” she offers a grateful smile, and he smiles back, a hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. 

“Man, Mikasa, you really know how to give us heart failure, you know?” 

She rolls her eyes with a smirk, glad that he seems to be as unfazed by nudity as she herself is. It makes her wonder, for a moment, about how many women he’s seen bare. With a shrug, she decides she’ll probably never find out. 

She walks a little ways away, and sets her cloak on the ground before digging in her things for her underwear and bindings. She pulls on the white cotton panties and starts struggling with the bandages for her bindings – her hair is wet and heavy, sticking to her damp skin.

“Here,” she tries to ignore the way her nipples tighten at the sound of Levi’s voice behind her, “I’ll help.” 

Oh, god. He must know. He must – no, she’s covered her nipples with the bandage at least – but maybe – no, the salt and residual water dripping from her frame would probably mask the wetness between her legs – 

“Hold your hair out of the way.” 

Mikasa does so, staring out over the waves as Eren and Armin emerge. They’re splashing each other, laughing as they go. 

Despite the feel of fingers sparking over her back and ribs, she relaxes. This is where they’re meant to be. This is where she’s meant to be. 

She finds herself observing Eren as he steps from the waves. He’s toned, tanned, and with water running in the dips between his muscles, down his chest and arms and legs, he looks a little like a god emerging from the sea. 

Mikasa wonders what people think when they see her step from the waves.

Suddenly his eyes catch hers, and his steps falter. 

She offers a small smile, and he meets it with one of his own. 

.

Mikasa stands before the group, holding up her knife, “Don’t cut yourself with this,” she says dryly, “the women told me blood attracts sharks.” 

She turns and marches towards the water, annoyed. Armin had talked her into wearing something to cover herself lest the male teenage recruits die of embarrassment. It’s only a pair of black underwear and her bindings – which she knows are going to get heavy and unravel in the water anyway – but needing to cover anything is annoying. 

She’s not the one embarrassed, why should she have to change? 

“Uh – M-Ma’am, how do we crack them open?” 

She doesn’t turn around as her feet meet damp sand. 

“Use the edge of the blade,” she grunts, “I’ll show you once we have some.”

And with that she surges into the oncoming waves and dives below the break-zone until she’s far out enough to be unaffected. She treads water as she watches the recruits valiantly trying to follow her lead. 

Levi pops up beside her, looking to all the world like a pissed off cat. A very soaked cat.

Mikasa sniggers, and at his curious glare jerks her head towards the shore, where at least four of the recruits just got dumped by a wave. 

“You should’ve given them some pointers, at least,” he says, and it turns her on that he doesn’t even sound winded despite swimming through a rough swell. 

“They’ll learn,” she shrugs dismissively, and then outright laughs as three teenage boys warning screams are cut short in a quick slap of a wave. 

“Huh,” when she looks, Levi is eyeing her interestedly. “All this time and I didn’t realise you were a sadist. Interesting.”

“Oh, get fucked,” she snorts, splashing a hand at him. 

Queue drowned cat look. 

She laughs again, even as he makes two powerful strokes closer, and grabs her around the waist. 

“You’re going to regret that,” he grunts, and she should be concerned at the murderous look on his face, but all she can focus on is his bare torso pressing against her front. The slick feel of sculpted abs against her own, the corded muscles along his arms-

And then he dunks her roughly underwater and she elbows him in the gut while she’s down there. When she resurfaces he’s scowling, but he doesn’t look nearly as homicidal as when he got splashed, so she thinks she’ll get away with it. 

She yells for the recruits to hurry up and forges a path towards the spot she’d found yesterday morning. 

They spend the better part of the morning foraging, and if she chucks her sopping wet bindings and underwear in Armin’s face as soon as he’s within range on the beach, no one comments. Except Levi, mumbling something along the lines of _‘this shit again?’_

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So!!! Waves!!! Water!!! Ocean!!! Mikasa and Nanase Haruka would have been great friends (or rivals???). 
> 
> Anyway, Mikasa gives no fucks about nudity. She just wants to swim and be free and not be weighed down by clothing or societal expectations!!!! 
> 
> Eren... does not know how to feel. About Mikasa. About seeing Mikasa. Naked. Because, wow. Just. Wow. 
> 
> Jean is like... I did not sign up for this but I'm HERE for it. 
> 
> Armin. After his initial shock, Armin rationalises that everyone is naked under their clothes anyway, so does it matter that much? No. 
> 
> The new recruits are a strange mixture of afraid and attracted and admiring. It's not everyday you see the ocean, cliff diving, and three of humanity's heroes naked and emerging from the surf...
> 
> Levi. Is done. With dealing with Mikasa. Dealing with NAKED Mikasa, to be specific. Like, would it kill her to not parade herself in front of him? Would it kill HIM to stop staring (probably). Also, he has to hide an erection the entire walk down to the beach because every time he tries to think of something else he just sees Mikasa's perfect ass disappear over the edge of the cliff and who knew watching her do badass shit would have this effect on him??? (read: everyone) 
> 
> Until next time xx


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A taste of what could have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> The next chapter is written and just awaits editing so it will be up soon. 
> 
> I'm not going to spoil much about this chapter. 
> 
> Things heat up. Things cool down. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

She finds herself caught between them. Heated touches with Levi, burning looks to and from Eren. 

Eyes on her when she’s naked on the shore, when she dives from high places and surfs waves on waxy wooden boards. 

She should’ve known the strange tension couldn’t last forever. 

Something had to give way.

.

The cave is small, but the water in it is clear and the light from outside reflects enchantingly into the space. Glimmering reflections pass over limestone walls, dotting the ceiling in spots patches of light and colour. 

Mikasa floats, letting the gentle tug of the waves spin her languidly around the space. 

“You alright in there?” at Eren’s shout she lifts a hand and waves, indicating that she’s fine. 

Splashing, light panting. 

“Wow,” he breathes, and in the corner of her eye she sees him settle himself to float beside her and stare up at the cave roof. 

“Hmm,” she closes her eyes and they float in silence for a moment. 

“Eren,” she says, “untie my hair.” 

She splashes upright and treads water as he glides closer. Light tugging, and then slightly wrinkled fingers are in her hair, pulling the braid out gently. Mikasa can feel warmth radiating from the man behind her, despite the coolness of the water. 

She dips down briefly, tilting her head back to let the water slick it from her face. 

When she emerges he’s close enough for a foot to touch hers, to feel his breath on her ear. 

Mikasa turns her head and meets his eye. 

The lighting in the cave is just right for the green of them to glimmer, lively. His cheeks are flushed from the sun, and his lips are wet and pink. Water droplets stick his long lashes into spikes. She can’t stop staring at them. 

“Mikasa,” he murmurs, and suddenly she’s closer to him. She doesn’t know which one of them moved. 

They’re close enough now that her breasts skim his chest, her lips cool at the feeling of his slight exhales. 

She – she can’t stop looking. Closer, now, she sees stubble growing in, can spot the few freckles that dot his nose and cheeks. She wishes desperately that she could freeze this moment, glue this image of him to the back of her eyelids to keep forever. 

“Eren…” she whispers back, and then leans forward until their lips touch. 

His mouth is wet, lips warm, and his tongue even warmer. Her hands dance up his shoulders and settle in his wet hair. He kicks, and suddenly she’s gliding backwards, his hands encircling her waist as he pushes her gently against a rocky ledge. 

Her hand reaches out behind her to hold herself up, as does one of his. The other – hers stays around his neck, but his – his traces down the side of her waist and settles at her ass. He palms a cheek and squeezes, groaning into her mouth. 

Mikasa arches into him, pressing her breasts more firmly against his flesh. Her legs wrap around his waist to anchor them closer, and she can’t help the hitch of her breath as her folds grind against his hard length. 

“Fuck,” he says breathlessly, breaking the kiss. 

She opens her eyes. 

Dark grey meets bright green, and Mikasa wants so badly. She wants this. She wants it, more that she can ever remember wanting anything. 

But – 

Eren. He’s… frowning. 

“Mikasa,” he says, taking deep breaths. His hand is still gripping her ass cheek. 

“I can’t- I can’t do this to you,” his voice is strained. 

She focuses on the gentle lapping of the water at her collarbones, and tries to blink away her confusion. 

“I want to,” his breath hitches, “I’ve wanted to for so long. But – I – I can’t.” 

She quirks a brow. 

“Is this an ‘I-can’t-be’ selfish’ thing?” she asks dryly, “Because I want you to know – I want this, too.” 

He closes his eyes, and his jaw clenches. Mikasa presses herself more firmly against him. 

“It’s not – fair,” he grunts, even as his hand pulls her closer, “I’ll be gone in a year, Mikasa. I won’t do this to you.” 

“Eren,” she moves her hand from the rock and lets him support their weight as she wraps both arms around his neck, “why can’t you just be with me?” 

He buries his face into her neck, and inhales. 

“Just be selfish,” she murmurs, “let yourself have this.” A hand, stroking down his back, “Let yourself have me.” 

He lifts his head. Shakes it slowly. The hand that had been gripping her ass traces down her leg, and unclasps her ankles from the small of his back. She lets him, watching as frustration and resignation war in his eyes. 

He leans in only once more, to place a kiss at the corner of her mouth. 

“If-” his voice cracks as he pushes off the wall to float a little ways away, and he pauses to clear his throat, “If after we die, we get another chance at life – I hope we meet again.” 

Mikasa treads water and watches him as he does the same. 

“I would do everything I want to do now, but I’d give you dozens of years instead of just one.” He says, eyes watering, “I would love you, properly.” 

She feels her lip tremble, and doesn’t blink away the stinging at her eyes. 

“Everything that’s happened,” he’s crying now, too, “I don’t regret it. But – I’m sorry, Mikasa. For choosing this life. For not choosing you when I had the chance.”

A small sob escapes her, and damn it, she thought she was done with the tears. Her mouth opens but she can’t get any words out. 

“Forgive me, if you can.” 

And then he swims away with powerful strokes, and Mikasa is left in the cave, alone.

.

She swims for hours after that. Even when her muscles burn and ache, when her eyes and head pound from tears and the salty water of the ocean, when her legs cramp and she’s wrinkled as anything. 

When she emerges it’s far past dusk, and Armin is standing on the shore, a towel at the ready. She takes it, ignoring the hot spill of water down her wet face and wondering how the fuck she’s got any tears left at this point. 

He doesn’t speak. Just pulls her close and hugs her once she’s wrapped herself in the fluffy white towel. 

“He told you,” her voice is cracked and shaking. 

“He didn’t have to,” is all Armin says. 

They stand at the water’s edge as the stars dot the night sky above them. Mikasa takes in the warmth of her friend and hugs him until she doesn’t feel like she’s tearing apart from the seams. 

He’s damp from her sopping hair and wet face, and she’s sure his pants are drenched from the backsplash of the waves, but he doesn’t speak for what feels like hours. 

You still have me, his arms tell her, and she vows to treasure him for as long as he has left. 

Her chest aches for Eren and what could have been, but she thinks of Armin and Jean and Historia and Levi, and decides that it might be alright yet. 

They walk back to the inn hand in hand, path lit only by the glow of the moon. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I... hope that was okay. 
> 
> Mikasa. Eren. They could have had something beautiful, hey? 
> 
> Alas, not every love story is meant to be.
> 
> Are you lot looking forward to some more intense smut in the very near future? This - was light, as you might have noticed. But... it's coming. Something more. 
> 
> All I'm gonna say is... get ready.
> 
> Goodnight xx


End file.
